


Vivid

by Kyn_Moonlight (Kyn_Moonligjt)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Dubious Ethics, Kink, M/M, Masturbation, NO actual non-con - Explanation of consent warnings in notes, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Sexual Fantasy, Size Kink, Somnophilia, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyn_Moonligjt/pseuds/Kyn_Moonlight
Summary: Geralt does something (and has a vivid imagination about more) he probably shouldn’t, but it’s for a noble cause… He hopes."Geralt slipped into Jaskier’s room, his pants already undone, and a hint of guilt already tightening his shoulders. ..."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 448





	Vivid

**Author's Note:**

> me: I don’t know the nuances of the universe enough to write. I just read the happy cuddle fics.  
> also me: writes filthy kinky porn.
> 
>  **NOTE:** Not quite sure how to explain, warn for, or tag the dubious consent without spoilers. (Which are noted below.) 
> 
> Skip the spoilers/warnings if don’t want to know what’s going on ahead of time.
> 
> Read the following spoilers/warnings if you’re concerned there may be something you’d prefer to avoid. If anything is a trigger, merry part – there are better things out there for you to read instead, and I apologize for any disturbing thoughts this may have caused.
> 
> There’s no actual physical assault by Geralt, but there are actions and thoughts that are not invited or entirely ethical.
> 
>  **Spoilers/Warnings:** Geralt jerks off while looking at Jaskier without his permission, indirectly scent marks him without permission, and fantasizes about touching him and rubbing come on him (in a possessive way, but not violently) but he wouldn’t actually do that without consent. He thinks his reasons are good, and Jaskier ultimately forgives him, but of course that doesn’t really make it right.  
> It’s implied, but not described, that a third party attempts or intends to rape Jaskier (or eat, kill, or some other unspecified fatal monster-related behavior) but fails.

\--

Geralt slipped into Jaskier’s room, his pants already undone, and a hint of guilt already tightening his shoulders.

The infuriating little bird _(I’m not little, Geralt, I’m almost as tall as you! Just because your muscular chest is wide as a barn door and my artistic frame is somewhat less so doesn’t make me little!_ ) was taking an after-dinner nap at the inn where they were staying, in preparation for a midnight-to-dawn gig at the local Baron’s mansion. Which he refused to consider suspicious, or to let the Witcher accompany him to for protection. Geralt’s witcher instincts were telling him the Baron was some manner of not-human, and his mistress had fae ancestry no further than seven generations back if he wasn’t mistaken. But having no tangible proof other than the engagement’s dubious scheduling, he was unable to convince Jaskier, no doubt swayed by the Baron’s lavish praise and breathless admiration, to take the threat seriously.

That left Geralt, with no time to formulate a better plan, other than this current –and honestly questionable – solution. If the Baron was baseline human, no one would know a thing. At least he could only hope so, or Jaskier was going to be furious with him, and justifiably.

He approached the sleeping man’s bed, silently as his training permitted and took a deep breath to fix Jaskier’s scent and his own resolve in his mind. In sleep Jaskier’s lashes were fanned dark against his cheeks and his lips parted slightly in relaxation.

The sight of both, along with his current vulnerability made Geralt‘s protective – and predatory – instincts stir, and his cock thickened in his hand. He stroked it roughly, determined to finish and be gone before Jaskier could wake, but eyelashes, no matter how pretty, and determination weren’t enough bring him off that fast.

Closing his eyes, he resorted to a fantasy of doing more, worse. As if his current activities weren’t guilty enough. In his fantasy there was no remorse, and no physical harm being done, but maybe enough stimulation for his goal.

With his vision shut down to better see the images he was imagining, he let his awareness fill with Jaskier’s familiar presence.

He would…

First, he would look his fill. He’d reach his free hand out, and slowly so not to wake the sleeping man, tease down the blanket. Reveal the slender but strong muscles of his shoulders and chest. Nipples, small, dusky and flat would pearl up slightly in the cooler air. He’d imagine taking one between his lips to warm it and feel it harden even more. The dark hair high on his chest would thin and narrow as the blanket was pulled back further to reveal his ribs and the slight softness of his slimmer waist.

When he moved the blanket lower still, he would see the hair widen and thicken again around the base of his cock, which would be small and soft in sleep, curved just a little with the slightly moist tip, barely peeking from the foreskin, resting on his firm thigh.

He would look. Look, savor, memorize, but not touch, no matter how much he longed to, so as not to wake the sleeping bard. His cock certainly appreciated the lovely vision, and he sped his strokes. Nearly there.

If he crept closer, would he be able to smell the scent of sex, as if maybe Jaskier had sought a quick orgasm to drain the day’s tension along with his cock, cleaning up quickly and incompletely before finally falling asleep.

Geralt would gasp, muscles of his entire torso tightening, as he came in hot pulses into his own tight hand. A small splash would overshoot his grip and spill over Jaskier’s cute little soft cock.

Geralt’s hands would be too rough and raise the risk waking the sleeping man, but the excess fluid, whether damp and cooling or already dry when he woke would be noticeable.

Geralt would lean over and use his mouth and tongue to suck his come off Jaskier’s cock. It would twitch just a little at the contact, not enough to wake him, but enough to fuel Geralt’s further fantasies of savoring the feel of holding it in his mouth as it thickened, hardened and Jaskier would shake and curse as he woke, coming in the Witcher’s mouth. But Geralt would release him before things could get that far

Lips moist with his own seed, he’d brush them lightly over the sleeping bard’s parted lips. Another area he ached to explore further, later.

He’d trace one come-wet finger up Jaskier’s stomach, across each raised nipple, the hollow of his throat. He’d rub some at the base of his skull, and over pulse points in his arched neck, wrists and the warm line where his thighs met just below his balls.

Geralt sighed. He could stroke two fingers moistened with his spend through the sparse hair under Jaskier’s arms, mingling their scents. Then he might dare to coax the man onto his side with a firm, gentle hand on his hips, and palm the lush swell of his ‘lovely bottom’. Dip his thumb into his cooling come and brush it across the tight pucker, maybe pressing in just slightly while imagining sinking other parts of himself in the tight heat.

Geralt’s eyes flicked open to let his gaze fall on Jaskier’s face as the vivid imagery pushed him over the edge at last. He bit his lip hard to keep the moan from escaping and spilled hot into his hand.

With one last glance at the bard, safely asleep and comfortably cocooned in the worn soft shirt he always wore to bed and the inn’s thin blanket, Geralt moved quietly to the washbasin and pitcher of water on a small table in the corner. He dipped just two fingertips in his semen, swirled them through the pitcher’s water, and wiped the rest away with his shirttail. Jaskier would wash before dressing in his performance finery, spreading the faint hint of the Witcher’s scent everywhere it needed to be.

With luck it would be enough to deter a non-human with bad intensions. A human with bad intentions would be within Jaskier’s capabilities to stop. Probably. Even if not, his life was unlikely to be in serious danger before Geralt could notice his overdue return and affect a rescue.

Closing the door silently, he paused a moment outside it then knocked and called loudly, “Jaskier, waking you up as requested. Your show is in one hour.”

He waited for a grumbled reply before ducking into his own room and shutting the door. As if that could shut out his feelings.

\--

Geralt paced – prowled – outside the Baron’s walls as the pink of false dawn started to color the horizon. The sound of a door latch caught his attention and he turned in time to see Jaskier, tucking the strap of his lute case over his shoulder, hurry down the stone steps and onto the walkway.

“Geralt!” he said stopping short, surprised, but sounding possibly pleased to see him.

He was _rumpled_. Geralt didn’t want to think of the potential reasons. He was still talking but Geralt was paying attention to his other senses first, telling him that though the younger man smelled of many emotions, places and people, the strongest were anger and relief, and most importantly – alive, alive. Alive!

“…because you think I can’t take care of myself? That I couldn’t save myself? Because I can. And I did. I’ll have you know, without your enormous Witcherly looming…”

He relaxed and suppressed a smile at the bard’s current performance.

Jaskier was waving his hands in emphasis, and when one sleeve … _torn_ sleeve – they would be addressing that later… slid back to reveal red scrapes and scuffs of dark iron residue ringing his wrist, Geralt stiffened and reached out. He managed to stop himself from grabbing.

“You’re hurt! Jaskier, what happened?”

“No, just a little trouble. Totally not my fault! I’ll tell you all about it later. I handled it. I used reason instead of brute force and talked him into letting me go.

Geralt ground his teeth while Jaskier continued. He was going to come back in full daylight and make sure this monster posing as a baron wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.

“OK, fine, I might have threatened him with a scathing ballad. Um. And, I may have implied he’d have to deal with an angry Witcher if I didn’t return on time.”

“Hmmh.”

“I … you …” His eyes narrowed. “ _What_ did you do?”

“You said you handled it.”

“I did … but when I mentioned you, he said I ‘stunk of the possessive Witcher’s claim’ and threw me out.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t you hmm at me Geralt of Rivia! I want to know. I think if you did something I _deserve_ to know. So the _truth_. _All_ of it. Right now.”

“I uh… I mixed…” A witcher wasn’t afraid of deadly monsters; he wasn’t going to cringe at a songbird’s scowl. “… some of my semen in your wash water,” he admitted in a rush.

At Jaskier’s wide-eyed angry glare he clarified, “Just a few drops. If he was human he wouldn’t be able to smell anything!” And you’d never have known, he didn’t add.

“Ah, so you didn’t strip me in my sleep, take that _big_ cock in your _big_ hand, jerk off while looking at me, _come_ all over me two or three times, then rub your come into my naked skin everywhere to scent mark me as your possessive witcher territory?”

By all that was unholy, the bard could paint a vivid picture with just words!

Geralt huffed. “Bad enough what I did. I wouldn’t…”

“Did you want to?”

“ _What_?!”

“No? Hmm? Just some kind of protective charm then? Just that you didn’t want the Baron to have me, not that _you_ wanted to have me.”

“ _Yes_! I mean _no_! I…”

He knew that Jaskier understood that he sometimes had trouble putting things into words, and was relieved when he just glared at Geralt impatiently instead of storming off in disgust and offense. Which would be no less than he deserved.

He tried again. “I would have wanted to. Not with you unwilling. Unconscious. And not because it would warn off the vampire.”

“Is _that_ what … Not important right now.” Jaskier waved a hand, then bunched it in the front of Geralt’s shirt and tugged him toward the road. “Right now you need to take me back to the inn. Because if I’m going to be _claimed_ as the property of a possessive witcher, I want to enjoy. _Every_. _Second_. Of it.”

\--


End file.
